The Small Things
by Mastermind Minion
Summary: Tifa agrees with Vincent.


The Small Things

Summary:

Tifa agrees with Vincent.

A/N:

A one-shot inspired by something that happened to me. And no, I was not the one giving the back massage. I was on the receiving end. Can't complain though, it felt amazing.

Disclaimer:

As with all other fellow fanfic authors, I own not.

If there was one thing Tifa did know about Vincent, it was that he enjoyed small, seemingly insignificant things. She knew, because he had told her, and since then, she'd been looking for such things. Her first, was probably her most memorable, and the one that made her agree with the quiet, reclusive man.

Tifa had come back from picking up groceries earlier than she had expected. She called out her arrival only to find no response, which was unusual, to say the least. Vincent had been staying with Tifa under her "persuasion", and rarely left the house. Sometimes to go with her to the store, or run a few errands, but not unless he had to.

Upon arriving at the house, closing the doors, and placing the groceries on the counter, Tifa heard music playing quietly from upstairs. An odd occurrence, so she snuck up, curious. Vincent's door was partially open and he was stretched out on the bed, face down as he listened. The music wasn't quite classical, some different styles thrown in here and there, making it difficult to discern what style the piece actually was. She thought she heard some jazz in there….

It was an interesting piece, for sure, but strangely enjoyable at the same time. It reminded Tifa of Niebelheim during the festivities, a cool, summer breeze running through her hair as she danced the night away to various tunes. The song came to an impressive end, the fireworks going off in her head, lighting up the night sky with flashes of bright, neon colors. Tifa smiled and opened her eyes, breathing in deep, the scent of candied cinnamons catching her attention and she looked around for its source, more than surprised to find a small bag of cinnamon candies on the bed beside Vincent, who was still lying face down, oblivious to the prying eyes checking him out.

It was then, when she had spotted the bag of candies, that she noticed the lack of clothing to Vincent's persona. It surprised her, seeing so much bare skin, and she couldn't hide the embarrassed blush that crept onto her cheeks as her gaze swept over the pale skin, toned muscle, and the dip of his lower back, where her gaze stopped. Not that she didn't want to, it was just that those blasted leather pants were in the way. If only she could—She shook her head, stopping those thoughts mid-process and tearing her eyes away from the bed.

Vincent shifted on the bed, one hand coming up to scratch an itch on his neck before giving a barely audible sigh and going still. After a few minutes, Tifa relaxed, releasing a breath that she didn't know she had been holding.

"That was a close one." She murmured as she entered the kitchen and began putting away the groceries.

Vincent had yet to come down as she finished preparing dinner, and she glanced at the stairs, wondering if he was coming down. She gave him a few more minutes, setting the table before heading upstairs to let him know the food was ready.

She knocked on his door, calling out.

"Vincent, dinner's ready."

She knocked again when there was no reply, pushing the door the rest of the way open. Vincent was where she had left him three hours ago, face-down on the bed. The music had long since stopped, the cd having run out of tracks to play. Sighing softly, Tifa went to the bedside, shaking his shoulders gently.

"Vincent, wake up. Food's ready." She said, frowning when he didn't respond.

She tried a couple more times, growing more frustrated at the lack of response and was about to give him a good smack across his back when an idea suddenly formed in her head, a devious, selfish plan. Cid's words from ages ago running through her mind.

'Ya know what's great Teefs? Wakin' up tah a woman coaxin ya outta the dreamworld rubbin' yer back where yer muscles 'er all bunched up, the smell a' food an' coffee waftin' in from the other room. Makes fer a wonderful mornin', I'll tell ya.'

She didn't have any coffee brewing, but she could smell the food from here, and decided to give it a go. 'Besides' she thought, steeling her nerves for the worst. 'Wasn't it Vincent himself who told me to give it my all if I ever wanted something for myself?'

Did she want this? To have a relationship with Vincent? She hesitated, hands inches away from his skin.

She and Cloud had sorted out their feelings for each other, and while she was still a little surprised to find that she didn't mind that much when he left, it had hurt for a while. They were still friends, and saw each other quite frequently, with everyone else, or alone. It didn't matter, it didn't hurt anymore, and they were both happy. Or was she?

She had been lonely after a while of living alone. Barret had taken Marlene to live with him, and Denzel had gone with Cloud, leaving her alone. So, she had extended an "invitation" to Vincent and he had moved in. She wasn't so lonely then, and had even begun to enjoy herself, even though most of the time, Vincent didn't participate much. She did most of the talking, occasionally, he would toss a few words in. He never did anything to hurt her, was considerate of her feelings, and approached sensitive subjects with great care or not at all. Which, she was very thankful for. She did the cooking, he helped with the clean-up. She had a rough day, he'd listen to her talk about it until she felt better. She went out for the day, he stayed and watched the place or came with her when she asked him to. They never talked about what he ever wanted, and Tifa was surprised to find that she wanted to know.

She wanted to know what went on in his head during their quiet meals, if he was thinking about Lucrecia, Hojo, or the nightmares that still plagued him most nights. She wanted to know what those nightmares were about, what he wanted to do someday, whether he had a dream, a favorite color, day, number, food, it didn't matter, she wanted to know. Whether this was plain, innocent curiosity or something more, Tifa could not say. But with those thoughts running through her head, she made up her mind.

Bending down so her mouth was a breath away from his ear, Tifa slowly ran her hands across his back, gently kneading his relaxed, but surprisingly tense, muscles with slow, deliberate moves.

"Vincent."

She smiled when he didn't answer, sure he was doing it on purpose. Really, who could sleep for more than ten hours at once?

"Vincent." She called quietly, nearly a whisper, but not quite. Smiling when she received a very sleepy and muffled "Mmph" in response. Maybe this wasn't such a bad idea after all, she definitely wouldn't mind doing it again. She tried again, this time more confident and enjoying it.

"Vincent." She said warningly, but with humor. "If you don't get up, I'm going to take your pants."

She was rewarded with a slight huff, almost missing his sleep slurred words while actually wondering if she was going to keep true to her threat. Although, she wasn't going to complain if she did.

"Mmm—'d like that." He mumbled, not opening his eyes.

Tifa's eyes widened and her hand faltered. Did he just say….he'd like that?! She stared in shock at the back of his head. There was no way he did. He couldn't have. On the bed, Vincent sighed in annoyance, a light frown creeping onto his face.

"Don' sstop." He slurred, jerking Tifa back into awareness. She smiled deviously, despite the fact he couldn't see her.

"What?" She asked innocently, continuing the massage. "This?"

"Mmph. Mm-hm." Came the sleepy reply. A bit slow, and several minutes late.

"Feel good, don' s—" He murmured, unable to keep awake as Tifa worked his stiff muscles. He slipped quickly back into unconsciousness, failing to retain consciousness to his tingling nerves, stretching muscles, and Tifa's warm touches.

Tifa giggled lightly as she watched him sink further into sleep as she slowly worked his tense back until she had covered the entire surface of his back and her stomach growled angrily at her, reminding her why she had come up there initially. She laughed, deciding she could eat alone that night. Vincent had definitely made up for it the way he was sleeping now. Though his position hadn't changed, he had turned his head so she could see half his face in the low light.

His hair was flopped everywhere, on hand tangled in the black mess. His eyes were shut and he looked innocent and ridiculous to Tifa, with a look of deep content and peace glued to his face and drooling slightly. Oh, yes. He had definitely made up for missing dinner.

Finally releasing her laugh once she was safely downstairs, Tifa decided the she wouldn't mind him missing a few more meals if she got to see that look again. She had to agree with Vincent in that respect.

It was the small things in life that were the best.


End file.
